


Struggles in the Milkovich Home

by Dragon_in_Disguise



Series: The Fourth Milkovich [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arrested Iggy Milkovich, F/M, Good Sibling Iggy Milkovich, Heavy Angst, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Gets Shot, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Mild Smut, Near Death, Original Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Cotton Top Mounts, Protective Ian Gallagher, Protective Iggy Milkovich, Protective Lip Gallagher, Protective Mandy Milkovich, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Terry Milkovich Being an Asshole, Therapy, Twins, mentally challenged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_in_Disguise/pseuds/Dragon_in_Disguise
Summary: With Terry off in jail for breaking probation, Mickey must work towards getting help for what happened the day he was caught with Ian. At his side, Cotton desperately wants to work and be his own person, but Mickey is scared his illness will be in the way.All of that comes to a halt however when Iggy gets arrested and money becomes tight.-Aka, an AU inspired by tyronexx where Cotton Top Mounts and Mickey Milkovich are twins and a direct sequel toUnknown Milkovich
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Ellison "Cotton Top" Mounts, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Iggy Milkovich & Ellison "Cotton Top" Mounts, Iggy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher & Ellison "Cotton Top" Mounts, Lip Gallagher/Mandy Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich & Ellison "Cotton Top" Mounts, Mandy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich & Ellison "Cotton Top" Mounts
Series: The Fourth Milkovich [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684318
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Struggles in the Milkovich Home

**Author's Note:**

> I do NOT take credit for this idea. This was inspired by tyronexx who wrote two one-shots about this AU. Also, this is a direct sequel to _Unknown Milkovich_ and I highly recommend reading hat first (you can find in this series)
> 
> Also, this was NOT, I repeat, NOT supposed to be 9K words but I couldn't stop typing.

Mickey wasn’t too surprised when the news broke out that Terry landed in prison again for breaking probation the same night Iggy and his cousins kicked him out and beat him for what he did. Terry has a knack for making things worse for himself. It just made things a lot easier for Mickey to have him out of the picture for now. 

Gave him a chance to work through some issues. 

“Painkillers?” he asks as he walks into the kitchen, buttoning up his black dress shirt. Mandy dries her hands off from washing the dishes and grabs the bottle from the cabinet, handing him a couple pills. “Thanks.” 

“Where are you heading to?” she asks, turning back to her task. 

He hesitates, straightening out his shirt. “Uh, you know V, right?” Mandy nods, raising an eyebrow. “Well, she has this therapist friend and offered a few sessions for free.”

She pauses, looking at him with wide eyes. “Therapist?” 

Mickey shrugs. “Ian’s idea.” 

“Shit, I didn’t know it was this bad.” 

“It’s not,” Mickey sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He’s worried though, and he needs to talk about it too. Might as well take up the free sessions, yeah?” 

Mandy presses her lips together. She steps closer to him and grabs his arms, smiling reassuringly. “Well, in the chance you want to keep going, me and Ig can help, okay?” Mickey opens his mouth but she squeezes his arms, that expression of “don’t argue with me” appearing on her face. “Okay?” 

He sighs heavily. “Fine.” 

“Good,” she grins, dropping his arms. “We’ll keep an eye on Cotton while you’re out.” 

He smiles and nods, stepping back as she gets back to finishing up her dishes. He huffs and walks back into the living room, leaning against the couch and looking down at his blonde twin. “You’re getting good at this.” 

Cotton pokes his tongue out in concentration, thumbs flicking over the controls as he stares at the TV, in the middle of playing a shooting game Iggy got them last night. How, Mickey doesn’t know or care. 

He leaves him be when there’s a knock on the door, unlocking and pulling it open to find Ian’s smiling face. “Hey, Mick. You look good.” 

“Okay good, cause that’s what I was going for,” Mickey chuckles, looking back to find Cotton still concentrating on his game. “Let's go while he’s distracted,” he mutters to Ian, stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

Ian rolls his shoulders, following Mickey down the porch steps. “How’s he doing?” 

“He’s okay,” Mickey shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Been a little more aware of everything going on.” 

“That’s good,” he hums. They fall quiet, continuing their walk side by side for town to catch a bus. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Ian asks, opening the door for Mickey. He takes in his surroundings - the cozy feeling coming from the plain but warm-colored room, the gentle chatter from the waiting room where a few people sat, possibly waiting for someone. Mickey takes a deep breath and nods, sticking behind Ian as they approach the front desk. 

They fill out the paperwork in silence in the waiting room. It doesn’t take long for the two to be pulled into the back where V’s friend leads them to her office. She smiles politely at the two, closing the door behind her and taking a seat across from them, looking over their paperwork quickly. “Hello, Mr. Milkovich and Gallagher, I’m Dr. Mackington, but you can call me Helen. Why don’t we start by telling me why you’re here today?” 

Mickey and Ian look at each other. Mickey shifts nervously, looking down at his hands instead of answering. Ian clears his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “We’re in a relationship and have been for a while now. Eight months, maybe.” Mickey looks up at Helen, panic blooming in his chest, but she doesn’t react to Ian’s words. She nods slowly as he talks. “His father is a homophobic jackass who constantly brags about beating the faggots straight. Caused Mickey to be homophobic towards himself for a while.” 

She looks at Mickey now. He chews on his bottom lip and nods for clarification, looking between the two. Ian continues. “Two weeks ago, his dad caught us being intimate and beat the shit out of us. Put a gun to our heads and pistol-whipped him.” He reaches over, gingerly running his thumb over Mickey’s eyebrow where his bruises are starting to fade. Mickey shoots him a strained smile, not minding the touch too much. Ian pulls his hand back, rubbing the back of his neck as he takes a deep breath. “Then after he finished that, he hired a hooker to come and “fuck the faggot out of him.” Basically had a woman rape him.” 

She looks at Mickey again and he nods. She clicks her tongue, writing more on her clipboard. “Mickey, are you comfortable with talking more into depth about this incident?” 

He laughs dryly. “I guess? Why wouldn’t I be? It already happened.” 

Helen looks up at him, examining him silently. She smiles and leans forward a bit. “I want you to know now that it’s okay to not have a tough guy exterior up while we’re in here. I don’t expect you to tell me everything now, or maybe for a while. It’s a process. I’m here to help you through this, okay?” 

Mickey parts his lips, shifting in his seat as he rolls that over in his head. He looks at Ian, who smiles reassuringly at him and reaches over to hold his hand and give it a squeeze. Mickey sighs and nods, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip. “Okay. Yeah, okay…” 

She hums, lifting her clipboard and crossing a leg over the other. “Now, Ian says you were pistol-whipped. Do you recall the entire incident or bits and pieces of it?” 

Mickey swallows. “All of it.” 

She writes that down. Mickey assumes she has to make notes and tries not to think too much about it. “Alright. Mickey, can you tell me how you felt during the incident?” 

“How I felt?” Mickey asks, raising a brow. 

“I know it’s a rather dumb question to you, but this is to help me understand what you think of this incident,” she continues. “Well it’s rather obvious at most times how someone feels towards a rape encounter, but I want to specifically know how you feel. Is that okay?” 

“Er- yeah, that’s fine,” he clears his throat, looking around the room to avoid her gaze. “Um… well, I didn’t like it, obviously. I don’t know, it was weird. I-” he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck, I came during it. Terry wouldn’t let me stop until she said I did…” 

Ian inhales sharply, rubbing his temple as he recalls the long session. Helen nods curtly, setting her pen down. “Mickey, don’t feel bad about that. With constant stimulation, it’s no surprise you did, especially if you could only stop when you did. That doesn’t make it consensual, though.” 

“Right,” he nods, huffing softly. “Um… I mean, what am I supposed to say? I hated it. Having Ian there was even worse.” 

Helen writes that down. “Can you explain?” 

Mickey’s throat tightens, looking up at her. “Having someone I care about watching me do something like that… You didn’t see his face. He couldn’t do anything and… Fuck.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning his elbows on his knees and dropping his head. 

Ian feels his eyes warm up, taking a deep breath and patting his thighs nervously. “Would now be a good time to stop?” 

Helen sighs, folding her hands over her clipboard. “If you both wish to pause this for now, that is alright. We can schedule another appointment soon.” 

Mickey lifts his head and nods. “Yeah, let's do that…” 

“Okay,” she smiles, getting to her feet. “Follow me and we’ll talk about your next session.” 

“How’d it go?” Cotton asks from his bed, rocking back and forth on his knees. 

Mickey pokes at Cotton’s lava lamp, trying his best not to look at his twin. “It was odd. Uncomfortable. I don’t know.” 

Cotton squeezes one of his many squishy stress balls, tossing it between his hands as he thinks. “You going again?” 

Mickey sighs. “Might as well. Might get something out of this.” 

Cotton purses his lips, setting down the blue stress ball and grabbing his orange one to play with. “Mickey, I want friends.” 

Mickey pauses, turning to look at him. “What?” 

“I want friends,” he repeats, speaking slowly. “I don’t like it here. It’s boring and scary. I wanna go out.” 

“Go out?” Mickey murmurs, moving to sit down next to him on the bed. Cotton nods, looking up at him. Mickey frowns, shaking his head slightly. “Cotton, look, I know this kind of sucks, but I don’t think you should go out on your own.” 

Cotton huffs softly, tossing the stress ball across the room. “Because I’m wrong in the head? Can’t take care of myself?” 

“No, Cotton,” Mickey sighs. “We live in the shittest city ever. People here are just complete assholes. No one cares if you’re mentally challenged or not - they will mock you and push you around just for the fuck of it.” 

“But Ian’s siblings were nice to me,” Cotton insists. 

“That’s because they know you are fucked in the head,” Mickey snaps. “You can’t help with how you act! No one else will fucking get that, Cotton!” 

Cotton’s face falls, shoulders hunching up and bottom lip trembling. “I’m not fucked…” he whispers, hands trembling as he trails off. 

Mickey rubs his face, sighing at his choice of words. “I didn’t…” He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around Cotton’s shoulders. “You’re just slow, and people will take advantage of that. Really, I wouldn’t mind you getting friends and doing things on your own, but it’s too dangerous.” 

Cotton shifts and huffs, leaning his head on his shoulder. “I want to be normal…” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s middle. “Everybody treats me like a kid…” 

“It’s hard not to when you talk, act, and think like one,” Mickey mutters. “Not that it’s your fault… it’s just how it is.” Cotton doesn’t respond, tucking his face against his shoulder. Mickey feels guilt and frustration build-up when he feels Cotton’s tear sink into his shirt, wrapping his other arm around him and tugging him closer. 

It really wasn’t fair, but Mickey doesn’t know what else to do. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Mickey asks again, looking between the Gallaghers tensely. “Like, seriously, is it? Cause I don’t-” 

“Hell yeah it is,” Carl grins, shuffling through their room to hide his weapons. “Cotton is cool. I like him.” 

Lip shrugs, playing with Liam on the floor. “It’s no problem at all, Mick. Fiona will be back before I have to go, and Carl will be here all day to hang out with him.” 

Mickey nods, zipping up his jacket. “Okay. You hear that, Cotton? You can hang here while I’m gone.” 

Cotton beams, watching Liam and Lip build up a tower of blocks. “Where are you going?” 

“Therapy,” He answers, ruffling his hair. “Ian and I will be back in a few hours. Don’t go anywhere alone, you hear?” Cotton nods, plopping down next to Liam and picking up a block to look at, a bright smile plastered on his face. Mickey tries to smile, but that guilt still lingers in his head. He nods curtly at Lip, who’s giving him a stare that means he’s trying to read Mickey’s thoughts, and leaves the room. 

Therapy goes a little better this time around, but Mickey still chokes up when trying to describe what happened in detail. The feelings part is getting in the way. Why she wants to know how he felt, he doesn’t get. Maybe it’s part of the process or whatever. Healing and shit is exhausting. 

Not to mention his mind is stuck on Cotton. Even though Cotton is the same age as him, his mind isn’t, and that’s what bothers Mickey when it comes to Cotton doing anything on his own. When you have a kid, you have to watch their every move, make sure they don’t hurt themselves while playing and don’t talk to strangers because sick people live in this world. Cotton knows like an adult, but thinks and talks like a child. Mickey knows Cotton is smart, considering he can learn faster than him at times, but Cotton still struggles. 

Mickey wonders if he should ask Helen on this, but what if she sends Cotton to the nuthouse? Can she do that, first off? Mickey’s too scared to find out. 

Two weeks go by of the same routine: take Cotton to the Gallaghers every two days when Mickey and Ian need to go to therapy, leave him there with Lip and Fiona, come back and eat dinner, then take Cotton home and listen to him ramble happily on whatever the hell Carl did this time. Cotton wants to bond with others that aren’t his family, and these are the only fuckers Mickey trusts. 

But then the free sessions end much to Mickey, Ian, and Helen’s disappointment. Mickey can’t afford these sessions every few days or even one a week and refuses to have Ian pay for both of them. They fight about it on the way home because Ian thinks they’re no way near closure for what happened, and Mickey knows he’s right, but that’s not the point. Mickey has his siblings to think about - all his money goes for them. He can’t be selfish now. 

Ian snaps that he’s still gonna go and Mickey snaps something along the lines of “good for fucking you” before they storm their way into the Gallagher house. No one notices anything wrong until Ian snatches a beer from the fridge and disappears upstairs while Mickey plops down next to Cotton and leans his head against his shoulder with an angry scowl. Cotton looks at him curiously, dropping Liam’s blocks to grab Mickey’s hand instead. “What’s wrong?” 

“Can’t afford therapy for myself and Ian’s mad I won’t let him pay for me,” Mickey grumbles, watching Cotton’s hands mess with his tattooed fingers. “But I guess this means we can hang out more.” 

“Okay,” Cotton murmurs, squeezing his hand. “If that’s what you want.” 

Mickey huffs, eyes flicking up to watch Liam stack his blocks up. “Well- it isn’t… but I can’t afford it.” 

“Why?” Cotton asks. “We have money.” 

“Not enough to spare.” 

“Sure we do,” Cotton says. “Mandy’s working, you know. Maybe I could work.” 

Mickey sighs. “Cotton, we talked about this.” 

“I’m not happy,” Cotton lifts his head off of Mickey’s, a pout forming on his face. “I’m not happy being cooped up at home or here and not allowed outside. I’m tired, Mickey. I wanna live.”

Mickey lifts his head and looks at him, raising a brow. “How many times have you said that in the mirror?” 

Cotton’s pout deepens. “Maybe eleven times.” 

Mickey’s gaze softens, brushing Cotton’s bangs back. “You’re serious about this, huh?” Cotton nods, looking at him hopefully with that damn begging look the twin has mastered. Mickey ruffles his hair gently, sighing in defeat. “We’ll look into it together with Iggy. See if we can find something for you that’s _safe._ Deal?” 

Cotton squeals - fucking _squeals_ \- and tackles Mickey into a hug. Mickey once again questions how they’re related. 

Liam giggles and stumbles his way over to join the hug, making Mickey laugh. Kids, huh? 

“How are you doing?” Mickey asks Ian during their lunch date, voice soft and careful. They haven’t technically talked about their fight, just kind of ghosted the whole thing. Ian has continued seeing Helen for two and a half weeks and hasn’t said a word about what they discuss, which is fair - his sessions and all. Mickey kind of wishes he was there with him. 

Ian shrugs, swallowing his spoonful of frozen yogurt. “I’m okay. Feeling a lot better about the whole… us.” 

Mickey nods, looking down at his frozen yogurt he hasn’t touched. To be honest, he’s not doing so hot. During the day, he and Iggy are working out a plan for Cotton to move forward in life, which includes finding someone willing to hire a mentally challenged man. Mickey’s fully aware it’s illegal for anyone to reject Cotton based on his condition, but that won’t stop owners from pretending they aren’t hiring anymore. But then during the night when Mickey’s alone in his room, his mind is plagued with memories of literally everything that’s happened - how he misses Ian’s touch, misses how intimate they were the night before Terry caught them, the woman on top of him and Ian’s broken gaze. He’s ashamed to say he sometimes cries himself to sleep when the memories get too dark. 

Ian reaches over and presses his fingers to his chin, tilting his head up till their eyes connect. “Are you okay? You look tired.” 

Mickey grabs his hand gently, pressing his cheek into his palm. He doesn’t miss the way Ian’s lips twitch into a soft smile. “I am tired.” 

“No jobs?” 

“None,” Mickey mumbles, feeling Ian’s thumb trace over his cheek. “I want to find him something he’ll learn quickly and remember easily, but of course, none of those are hiring.” 

“I would suggest lying, but with how Cotton acts…” 

“Exactly,” Mickey sighs. “Owners hear his cheerful but childish tone, and they backtrack. It’s bullshit.” 

Ian presses his lips together, sliding his hand up to brush Mickey’s bangs off his forehead. He might need to get that cut soon. “Wanna come over tonight? Take a breather and let Iggy handle this for a night?” 

Mickey’s shoulders slump in what looks like relief. “Really?” 

“Of course. You’re always welcomed,” Ian smiles, leaning over the table to kiss his on the cheek. Mickey’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment and shoves him lightly, doing his best to ignore their surroundings. Ian knows it’s because there are only two other people in this yogurt shop and they're in the back probably smoking a joint because it’s a slow hour, but it’s progress.

Cotton is happy to have one-on-one brother time with Iggy. Really, the only one-on-one sibling time that constantly goes down is between Mickey and Cotton, so it’s a nice change for Cotton. Iggy is completely chill with it, wanting to go shooting anyway, which is something Cotton can do. 

Mickey has dinner with the Gallagher family - a nice meatloaf Fiona cooked up - and watches whatever the hell Carl put on the TV for everyone to watch. He and Ian take up half the couch, Ian leaning against the arm of the couch with Mickey tucked between his legs, head resting against his shoulder. Debbie sits on the other end, occasionally kicking their feet when they get in her space. 

Liam joins them on the couch after everyone finished eating, crawling onto Mickey’s lap and quietly showing him a picture he drew earlier. Mickey can’t help but be reminded of Cotton, smiling and telling Liam it’s the greatest shit he’s ever seen. Ian snorts behind him but agrees with him, Liam’s face brightening as he looks over the drawing. 

Close to midnight, Fiona turns off the TV and orders everyone to bed. Mickey is half asleep on Mickey with an out-cold sleeping Liam against his chest. Ian keeps combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair, murmuring goodnight to Carl and Debbie as they head upstairs, the two bickering softly as they go. Fiona picks up Liam and takes him upstairs, soon coming back down and draping a blanket over the two of them, setting down a few pillows on the floor in case they need them. Ian waits until she flicks off the lights and goes upstairs to shift Mickey, attempting to lay down without waking him. Obviously, he fails. 

Mickey grumbles and rolls over on top of him, peering up at him sleepily. “Hey.” 

Ian chuckles, kissing his temple. “Sorry. Everyone went to bed.” 

“Mm, good,” Mickey grins, leaning up and kissing him lazily. Ian sighs in content, kissing him back with as much love as he can pour into the kiss. Mickey arches against him, arms sliding around his neck and nipping at his bottom lip. Ian hums, hands sliding down to grip his waist and pulling him close till their hips are pressed flush against each other. 

They do not waste time. Mickey strips their pants and boxers off quickly, ignoring their shirts for once and trying his best not to complain as Ian preps him, busying himself with marking his neck. Ian groans, not really in the mood to tease Mickey for being impatient when he himself is aching to get in him. Sexual frustration built up two weeks ago. They’re both not in the mood for slow tonight.

Mickey is woken up to find Lip hovering over the two of them, immediately becoming annoyed. “The fuck, man?” 

Ian groans as well, swatting Lip’s hand off of his shoulder. Lip straightens up, running a hand through his curls. “Mickey, Mandy called me saying you wouldn’t pick up. Iggy’s in jail.” 

Mickey shoots up immediately. “What? Why? Where’s Cotton?” 

Cotton was with Iggy last night. Panic fills his heart, scenarios flying through his head. Lip raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Cotton is at your place. Some cops heard them shooting and when they showed up, Iggy told Cotton to run and they did but the cops caught him. His guns weren’t licensed and all that, which is probably why he started running. Cotton is a bit shaken but okay.” 

Mickey stumbles to his feet, searching for his jeans and tripping over the blanket a bit. Ian sits up, grabbing his own jeans and pulling them on. “Thanks, Lip. Can we borrow your car?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Lip nods, dropping his schoolbag. “Just be back before two.” 

The two nod, rushing out the door and into Lip’s car. Mickey freaks out the whole way there, muttering darkly about Iggy being stupid and how they can’t afford bail and how worried he is about Cotton. Ian lets him rant, listening silently as he drives them to Mickey’s house. Mickey is out of the car before he can park, already through the front door by the time Ian locks the car. 

Ian walks inside, locking the door behind him and making his way to Cotton’s bedroom, finding the three siblings inside. Mickey is holding Cotton, his twin clinging to him and trembling. Mandy is pacing, on the phone and snapping at someone, growing angrier and angrier until she hangs up and slams her phone down on Cotton’s nightstand, proceeding to punch the wall. “Motherfucker!” 

Mickey and Cotton wince, watching Mandy silently. Ian steps inside, grabbing her wrist gently and looking over her knuckles, glad to see nothing split. “What happened?” 

She curses, shaking his grip off. “Terry’s lawyer is being an over-expensive jackass and the hearing already fucking happened! We can’t afford bail.” 

Cotton whimpers, tucking his face into Mickey’s neck. “Iggy…”

Mickey hushes him, rocking them gently. Ian sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Mandy, let’s go talk out here.” He nods his head for the living room, leading her out and closing the door behind him. Mickey sighs, running his fingers through Cotton’s blonde locks. “What happened, bud?” 

Cotton shifts, fiddling with one of the buttons on Mickey’s shirt. “We were just practicing… Some men came up and told us to drop our weapons and we did, but Iggy told me to run, so I did. I don’t know… I kept running until I got home, but Iggy wasn’t there…” 

“Shit, bud, I’m sorry,” Mickey murmurs, rubbing his back. “We’ll get him out, okay? We’ll get a lawyer and get some money…” Cotton nods, clinging tighter to him. They stay where they are until the other two come back, Mandy informing them on getting a lawyer to shorten Iggy’s jail time and how she’s gonna snatch extra shifts at the Waffle House. 

Now Mickey has to up his game in getting Cotton a job. The three can’t live off of Mandy’s shit paycheck - but very good tips - and Mickey’s very off-schedule jobs he gets whenever someone wants someone else beaten for stealing or pissing off the wrong boss. Iggy made the decent money around here, and now he’s in jail. 

They’re all royally fucked. 

Mickey drops a wad of cash in front of Mandy on the counter, walking up to the sink to rinse off his bloody knuckles. “There’s five. How long?” 

Mandy sighs, tapping away at her computer. “Eight months.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Mickey growls. They’re on their own for eight months. “Was there a fine?” 

“Five hundred,” she hums, picking up the wad of cash he dropped. “Guess you got that covered.” 

“To think I was gonna use that for bills,” Mickey huffs, shaking his head. “Unless I get more jobs, we’re not going to last three months.” 

Mandy keeps tapping away at her computer. “Not unless we find Cotton a job.” 

“We have been for weeks,” Mickey grumbles. 

Mandy shrugs a shoulder. “Can’t give up now. Before I go in today, me and him are going to look around again. I think there’s a place down the street from my place that needs a dishwasher.” 

“Thank God,” Mickey sighs, drying off his hands. He pats her back as he walks by, snatching the mail from the counter to look over. No bills yet. “I’ll go visit Iggy around four. Let him know we’re doing somewhat okay.” 

“Don’t worry him,” Mandy says, finally looking up at him. “He’s got enough on his mind being in jail.” Mickey snorts but doesn’t respond, tossing the mail back down and heading back into his bedroom. He plops down on his bed and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and relieving some of the tension in his body. He has another run at five and he should be getting four hundred out of this. Fuck, this isn’t going to work. Not when bills roll around. 

He opens his eyes when he feels someone sit down next to him, raising a brow when Cotton holds up a book to him. “How do you say this word?” 

Mickey peers down at where he’s pointing. “Especially.” 

“Oh, right!” Cotton beams, standing back up. “I forgot.” 

Mickey shakes his head fondly, watching him go before flopping down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. For the first time in a while, he admits he’s scared for his siblings. 

Almost a month goes by without too much of an issue. Mickey’s thankfully getting more runs, bringing in more money to pay off some shit they hardly use. Mandy is still working at that waffle house and Cotton is still being him, pleading to Mickey to try again in asking for work. The kid spends a lot more time at the Gallaghers now since Mickey is out most of the week. He likes playing with Liam anyway.

“And Mandy? She’s not overworking, is she?” Iggy asks through the phone. 

Mickey shrugs, watching a guard through the glass walk past Iggy. “She’s trying to get extra shifts, so I guess she is.” 

Iggy sighs heavily, running a hand down his face. He lowers the phone from his ear for a moment, bowing his head and taking a deep breath before he looks back up at Mickey. “You look tired.” 

Mickey huffs out a dry laugh. “I am tired.” 

“Talk to me, Mick.” 

He sighs, rubbing the edge of his eyebrow with a frown. “Gets harder and harder to sleep when I can’t do anything but think. I’m worried about Mandy, about Cotton, you, Ian - losing the house and fuckin’ Terry.” Iggy nods as he speaks, waiting patiently for him to finish. Mickey takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “And then I keep thinking about that day and… Iggy, I need help.” 

Iggy nods slowly, adjusting the phone against his ear. “I talked to Ian, you know. That Helen doctor is helping him tons.” 

Mickey’s shoulders slump. “I can’t afford it.” 

Iggy shakes his head. “Mickey, I know we don’t have tons of money, especially with Terry not around to do all the illegal shit he usually does. But this therapy shit only costs a lot if you go constantly. Why don’t you call that Helen doctor, figure out a plan you can afford, and get some fucking help.” 

Mickey looks at Iggy as if he grew another head, rolling his words around in his head. He bites his lip, a defeated expression crossing over his face. “Okay.” 

Iggy nods curtly, glancing up when the alarm goes off, the officer calling for everyone to wrap it up. “Tell Mandy to come see me when she has a break, I want to talk to her. See you soon, okay, Mick?” 

Mickey nods, smiling weakly and hanging up the phone with him, watching Iggy get up and follow the line of inmates out of the room. He sighs, getting to his feet and following after the other visitors out. 

When Mickey brings up what Iggy said to him, she’s more forceful about it than their brother. She calls Ian, easily convinces him to schedule a meeting for the three to work something out for Mickey, and shoves him back out of the house with Cotton to go job searching _again._

Next thing Mickey knows, he’s scheduled for one-on-one sessions with Helen every other Friday. Mandy wacks him over the head when he tries to back out, worried about their money. Cotton even gives him a pep talk which is what drives the final nail in his decision. 

It’s odd, he’ll admit. Helen is understanding and nice and patient - reminding him of his mother before she went downhill. After a few sessions, it’s getting easier to sleep at night. All his frustrations and fears vented out to her, allowing him peace for at least a couple of nights. 

A month passes when a miracle hits - Cotton lands a dishwashing job at Patsy’s Pies. Mickey will never forget the pure happiness in Cotton’s eyes when the owner shakes his hand and gives him the job. Even when Mickey pulls him aside to explain more into Cotton’s abilities, the owner is still set on his decision. Mickey has never felt more relieved. 

Everything is falling into place. 

“Iggy!” Cotton snatches the phone before Mickey can, plopping down in the seat and beaming at his amused brother. “Iggy, I got a job!” 

Iggy’s grin widens. “No shit, really? Where at?” 

Cotton looks up in thought, squinting for a moment. “Patsy’s Pies. I clean.” 

Iggy chuckles, nodding. “I’m proud of you, kid.” 

Cotton giggles and looks up at Mickey, handing him the phone but staying where he is. Mickey leans down and leans an arm against the counter so he can see Iggy, shaking his head in amusement. “He starts tomorrow. He’s excited, if you can’t tell.” 

Iggy rolls his eyes, watching his younger brother tap at the counter happily. “So, I have some bad news, Mick.” 

Mickey frowns. “What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re getting a longer time in there?” 

“I haven’t gotten in trouble yet so no,” Iggy huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Terry’s out.” 

Mickey pales. “What?” 

“Good behavior or some bullshit like that,” Iggy grumbles. “He got out last night.” 

Mickey swallows, bowing his face for a moment. “Um… what are we going to do if he comes home?” 

Iggy sighs, smiling weakly when Cotton looks at him. He doesn’t want to worry the twin too much. “I think you guys should stay with the Gallaghers for a bit.” 

“They don’t have room.” 

“Mandy stays with Lip, you stay with Ian, and Cotton will literally sleep wherever that has a blanket,” Iggy laughs a bit, the sound dying quickly. “But if Terry shows up in that house, you guys grab whatever you can and get out of there. You hear?” 

Mickey sighs, rubbing his temple tiredly. “Okay, yes. I hear. I’ll call Mandy. We’ll figure something out.” Iggy nods, looking up when the alarm goes off. Mickey bites his lip nervously, beckoning for Cotton to get up. “I’ll come back tomorrow to update you.” 

“Roger that,” Iggy smiles, hanging up the phone and getting up. Mickey does the same, ushering Cotton out of the room. 

Mickey waits until they’re in the car heading home to call Mandy, turning on the music a bit for Cotton to sing along softly too. The phone rings three times before Mandy picks up. “The fuck you want?” 

“Terry’s out,” he states, seeing Cotton pause out of the corner of his eye. Mandy is silent. “Iggy wants us to stay with the Gallaghers.” 

She murmurs something Mickey can’t understand, rustling coming from her end. “Ian’s going to talk to Fiona real quick. Where’s Cotton?” 

“Right next to me in the car. We’re heading back to the house to grab our shit.” 

“Noted. Do you mind grabbing my shit? I’ll text you what I need.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Mickey hums, pulling up in front of their house. “We’ll be quick. Terry’s been out since last night. He’ll probably be heading back from the bar now.” 

She murmurs something again. “Lip’s gonna call Kev. Be careful, please.” 

“We will,” he sighs, switching off the engine as Cotton climbs out, skipping up to the door. “Send me that text and call me back if Kev says Terry ain’t there.” 

“Roger,” she says before they both hang up. He jobs up the pathway to his porch, slipping through the door and locking it behind him. He takes a deep breath and rubs his face, walking into the living room where Cotton is standing. “Okay, Cotton, let’s-” 

“Wait, Mickey!” Cotton shouts, making him jolt. Before he can even blink, a gunshot rings through the house and he’s on the ground. 

Cotton screams, covering his mouth and backing up, whipping around to face his father. Terry leans lazily against the kitchen counter, lowering his gun and putting out his cigarette. He sighs heavily, shooting Cotton a smirk. “Y’know, you were always my favorite out of you two punks.” He chuckles, walking around to where the trembling blonde stands, patting his head with a twisted grin. “Even though you’re such a mushhead, I prefer you over that faggot. Keep up the work.” 

Cotton flinches when Terry squeezes his shoulder, watching him step over to Mickey’s limp body. He drops his gun next to Mickey and spits down at him, walking out of the house without another word. Cotton stands there, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. He stumbles over to Mickey’s body, falling to his knees and grabbing his arm. “M-Mickey? Mickey?” He shakes him roughly, voice rising when he gets no response. “Mickey, please! No no! Mickey?!” 

He rolls him onto his back, grabbing the gun and tossing it out of the way before shakily pressing his hands against his chest where the bullet hit, blood gushing past his fingers. He cries at the sight, lifting his hands and looking at the blood staining his hands. No no no, what is he supposed to do? There’s so much blood! Phone- he needs a phone! 

He scrambles for Mickey’s pockets, bloody hands struggling to grip Mickey’s phone and dial the three numbers he was always told to remember. He holds the phone to his ear, pressing his other hand to Mickey’s chest desperately. 

“911, what is your emergency?” a woman speaks over the line. 

Cotton stumbles over what to say, voice thick from crying. “M-My father shot my brother. H-He’s not m-moving! There’s so much blood! Please help! He needs help!” 

“I understand,” she says calmly. “Can you tell me where he is shot?” 

He sniffs, watching the pool of blood slowly grow. “Chest.” 

“Okay. Are you applying pressure to the wound?” 

“Y-Yes.” 

“Good. An ambulance is on the way. Please tell me your name and address.” Cotton does as he’s asked, stuttering and hearing his own voice grow higher and higher. She directs him to examine Mickey’s condition, checking for his pulse and breathing. Mickey’s still doing both. 

She stays on the phone with him until the ambulance and police arrive, sweeping Cotton away from Mickey so they can handle him. Cotton clings to the man who tugged him away, gasping and crying out for Mickey. The man leads Cotton to the couch, sitting him down and kneeling in front of him to look him over. “Sir, look at me. I need you to breathe.” 

Cotton whimpers and clenches his fists, shaking his head. “M-M-My brother- I-I-I-” He cuts himself off, crying out and pounding his fists against his head. The man quickly grabs his wrists, eyes wide and quickly pinning them down to his thighs. Cotton screams in response, panic for Mickey completely taking over his mind. 

“I need some help over here!” he shouts over his shoulder, an officer and woman paramedic jogging over quickly. 

Cotton sobs and struggles to find Mickey through the multiple people in his home, needing to see he’s okay, that he’s alive and breathing and cursing at the paramedics for trying to help. But there’s no curse, no struggle and no Mickey sounds. Just people talking and talking and _shouting._

He zeros in on one voice shouting, a familiar voice. He cries and struggles and kicks at the people holding him down. “Lip! L-Lip! Help me!” 

“Hey!” Lip finally pushes through the front door, running over to the couch. “Hey, get off of him! He’s scared!” He shoves the man holding Cotton, quickly wrapping his arms around the shorter man when he clings to him, sinking to the floor with him. The officer grabs his shoulder but Lip shoves him off, scowling and holding Cotton close. “Shh, shh, breathe. Breathe, Cotton. In and out with me. Okay?” 

Cotton hiccups and buries his face in his chest, fingers digging into Lip’s back painfully. Lip looks over his shoulder, throat tightening at the sight of Mickey’s condition, watching them wheel him out of the house as quickly as possible. Mandy had asked him to walk to the Milkovich house to make sure Mickey and Cotton got out quickly, only to find two police cars and an ambulance outside and the sound of Cotton screaming inside. 

“Sir, we need to make sure he’s okay,” the male paramedic says to Lip. “He shows signs of experiencing a mental breakdown.” 

Lip doesn’t loosen his hold on him. “Jesus fucking christ, he’s mentally challenged. Of course he’s going to fucking scream at seeing his damn brother shot! Give him some goddamn space!” 

The paramedic blinks in surprise but holds his hands up, stepping back and gesturing for the other two to go. Lip huffs and rubs Cotton’s back, shushing him quietly and doing his best to calm him down. He wishes Mandy was here. She’d know how to calm him down quicker. 

Cotton sniffs and finally stops crying, shakily trying to control his breathing. He listens to Lip’s breathing, working on following the pattern. The paramedic kneels down next to them, lips pressed together as he examines Cotton. “Mentally challenged, you said?” 

Lip looks at him, brushing his fingers through Cotton’s hair. “Yeah. I don’t know- has the mental state of a kid, you know?” 

The paramedic frowns. “How old is he?” 

“Eighteen.” 

“Has he been treated for this?” 

“The fuck you talking about?” Lip snaps. “How should I know?” 

The paramedic nods slowly. “Can I ask you to follow us to the hospital? I need to make sure he’s okay after all of that.” 

Lip sighs. “I don’t have a car.” 

“Ride with Officer Stern,” he says, standing up. “I’ll meet you there.” Lip watches him walk out, noticing a female officer standing by the door. Most likely Officer Stern. 

“Hey, look at me,” Lip murmurs, tilting Cotton’s head up. Cotton sniffs, face flushed red and cheeks wet with dried tears. Lip smiles softly, wiping his cheeks off gently. “Let's go ride with the nice officer to the hospital, okay? Mickey will be there, and he’ll be okay. Do you trust me?” Cotton’s bottom lip trembles, nodding slowly. Lip pulls him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his torso and tugging him along. “Come on, let’s go.” 

The ride to the hospital is uncomfortably quiet, the air tense. Lip curses when Mandy doesn’t pick up the phone, nor Ian. He calls Fiona instead, giving her a brief rundown and to get a hold of the other two and get to the hospital quickly. 

Lip and Cotton walk into the lobby, heading up to the counter to talk to the nurse. Lip is distracted however when the male paramedic from before walks over with two officers behind him. “Is Mickey okay?” 

The paramedic sighs. “We don’t know. But this isn’t about Mr. Milkovich.” 

The male officer steps forward, leveling Cotton with a cold stare. “There was a gun at the scene of the crime covered in your brother’s blood.” 

Cotton nods. “Y-Yeah. Our dad shot him.” 

“And left behind the weapon?” 

“Yeah.” 

The officers exchange a look and Lip sees where this is going fairly quickly. “Are you seriously thinking he did this?” 

“There’s a chance that this story is completely true,” the paramedic says calmly. “You did mention he is mentally challenged-”

“That is not a good enough reason to think he did it!” Lip snaps, grabbing Cotton and tugging him behind him. “Maybe do your fucking job and find Terry Milkovich!” 

“We can’t rule out that he might’ve had a breakdown and shot his brother,” the female officer states. “It’s not rare for someone in his state of mind-” 

“Piss off!” Lip shouts, feeling Cotton cling to the back of his shirt. “No, this is fucking illegal. You need way more evidence than his mental disease. He thinks like a child and you think that’s enough reason to arrest him? Maybe get some real shit then come back to me.” 

The three people in front of him look at each other, silently deciding on what to do. The female officer walks off, speaking into her walkie-talkie to get lab reports on the crime scene. The male officer moves and leans against the lobby wall, watching the two with narrowed eyes. Lip scowls at the paramedic as he turns and leaves, pulling Cotton into his side. “What happened?” 

“Assholes being assholes,” Lip mutters, tugging him over to sit down. 

Twenty minutes fly by before literally everyone in the Gallagher family comes running in. Mandy shoots over to Cotton, cupping his face and asking him multiple questions at once. Fiona rushes to the front desk to ask of Mickey’s condition, Ian moving next to Lip anxiously. Shit, he looks like a wreck already. 

Hell, Kev and V are here too. “How is he?” Kev asks Lip, looking around nervously. 

“Dunno,” Lip answers honestly. “I was too busy trying to get Cotton not arrested.” 

“What?!” everyone shouts at once, looking at the two men in question. 

Cotton looks confused too. Lip sighs, rubbing his face. “Some douche thinks because Cotton is mentally challenged, he shot Mickey.” 

Mandy bristles, standing up straight and setting her hands on her hips. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She catches sight of the officer very quickly, immediately moving for him. “Really? Gonna arrest my brother because he’s ill, huh?!” Ian moves quickly, grabbing her before she can make a move on the man who watches her blankly. He tugs her back, the others glaring at the officer and standing around Cotton protectively. 

Hours pass by, Kev and V sitting across the room taking turns glaring at the officer still watching Cotton. Fiona stands beside Cotton, rubbing his shoulder and letting him play on her phone. Mandy’s sitting on Lip’s lap, watching the door anxiously waiting for a nurse to come in and give them the breakdown. Carl, Debbie, and Liam are sitting off to the side, talking quietly to each other as they wait. Ian can’t stop moving, pacing the floor and looking at the doors over and over again, constantly going to the front desk asking for an update. He gets none. 

Finally, a nurse comes through, walking up to them with a clipboard in hand. “Mickey Milkovich?” Everyone looks up, most standing. She raises a brow but shakes her head, turning to the nearest person being Fiona. “He is in stable condition. He should be awake in a couple of hours.” 

A collective sigh of relief passes through everyone. Cotton perks up. “Can we see him?” 

She looks around at all of them. “Only direct family members can see him… Are you all related to him?” 

“No, only me and him,” Mandy says, gesturing to Cotton. “But he’s his boyfriend,” she adds, grabbing Ian’s arm. “Can he come too?” 

“Sure,” she nods, gesturing for the doors. “Please, follow me.” 

Mandy nods, grabbing Cotton’s hand and tugging him along. The officer steps forward, placing a hand against his chest to stop him. “I’m sorry, but he is under watch until further notice.” 

Ian steps up to the officer, growling lowly. “Under what proof? Because of his illness? Yeah, talk to our lawyer first.” He grabs Cotton’s other hand and pulls him along with Mandy, the three disappearing through the doors. The officer narrows his eyes but steps back, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall again, ignoring the glares from the rest of the family. 

Mickey wakes up to the sound of beeping, a dull aching feeling spreading over him as he comes to. He feels something wrapped around both his hands and squeezes, slowly blinking his eyes open and wincing at the bright white light above him. He sees Ian first, the redhead moving and hovering over him with a look of worry plastered on his face. He sees Mandy next move into his vision, standing next to Ian and looking relieved. Then he sees Cotton on his other side, playing with his fingers and smiling softly to himself. Mickey can’t help but smile too. “Hey, Cotton…” 

Cotton looks up this time, lighting up to see Mickey’s eyes open. Ian laughs wetly, bringing Mickey’s hand up and kissing the back of it. “Shit, Mick…” 

Mickey groans, looking up at the three of them. “What the fuck happened?” 

“Dad shot you,” Cotton answers easily, tracing Mickey’s palm. “The police think I did though.” 

Mickey squints, wracking his memory for the last thing that happened. He recalls Cotton yelling at him to wait and remembers getting shot. He heard Terry rather than see him before he blacked out from the pain. “Fuck the police. I’ll tell ‘em you didn’t shoot me.” 

“They’re using his illness as evidence,” Mandy growls. 

Mickey’s face twists in anger, his blood beginning to boil. “If they say that to my face, I’m gonna-” He stops, hissing in pain when he tries to sit up. Ian hushes him, pushing him back down gently and muttering about staying down. Mickey takes a deep breath - which honestly was a mistake - and settles back down. “Fucking assholes. Cotton, you’re staying here. You hear?” 

“Okay,” he says brightly, continuing to play with his hand. 

Mickey sighs, shifting and looking up at Ian tiredly. “I’m okay, right?” 

Ian smiles. “Yeah, the doctor said you’re in stable condition. You’ll only be in here for a couple of days.” Damn, Ian really does know Mickey, huh? Mickey hates hospitals. He relaxes at the news, squeezing Ian’s hand and closing his eyes. He’s so tired. 

Ian sits back down in the chair next to Mickey’s bed, running his fingers through his messy dark locks. Mandy tucks her hair behind her ear, inhaling and exhaling slowly before standing. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want some?” 

“Sure,” Ian nods, looking at Cotton. “You?” 

Cotton looks up, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Juice?” Mandy nods, patting Ian’s shoulder before slipping out of the room. Cotton shifts in his seat, slipping his legs under him so he can sit back on his heels, getting a better view of Mickey’s condition. His chest is bandaged tightly, IV lines running into his arms to keep him hydrated - Cotton remembers this because the nurse told him specifically not to pull on them. He didn’t want to in the first place, but he keeps his hands away from where the lines are. He pops his lips happily, watching Ian mess with Mickey’s hair. “He loves you.” 

Ian looks up sharply, eyes widening a fraction. “What?” 

Cotton blinks, looking down at Mickey’s hand. “He loves you. He tells me all the time.” 

“He does?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, interlacing their fingers with a grin, watching Mickey’s hand tighten around his. “It’s nice. He’s happy. He’s been tired lately, but he still smiles when we talk about you. It’s nice.” 

Ian’s lips twitch into a soft smile, looking down at Mickey’s sleeping face with the most loving look Cotton has ever seen. It makes him smile too. 

“-ve arrested Terry Milkovich this morning after finding him in the house.” Mickey hears a female voice speak, slowly coming to. “He was drunk and disturbing the scene of the crime.” 

“Fucking shocker,” Mandy mutters darkly. 

“Labs results came back to show both Terry and Ellison’s fingerprints on them, however, Ellison’s fingerprints were located around the barrel of the weapon,” the woman says. Mickey peeks his eyes open, looking around quietly at the other people standing around his bed. Cotton is still by his side, playing on Fiona’s phone. Fiona and Ian are standing in front of the woman who was speaking, Mandy leaning against the wall off to the side with a cup of coffee in hand. “I need a statement from both Ellison and Mickey on what happened.” 

“Our dad fucking shot me, end of the story,” Mickey grumbles, watching everyone’s heads snap around - except Cotton, who’s too busy on Fiona’s phone. The woman hums, walking over and taking a seat next to his hospital bed. 

“Good morning, Mickey. How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit,” he huffs, rubbing his face to rid the rest of the sleep from his eyes. He sighs heavily. “So what? You want me to explain what I remember?” 

“Yes, exactly,” she smiles, clicking her pen open and crossing her legs under her clipboard. 

He grunts, running a hand through his hair. Fuck, he could use a shower. “Me and Cotton came home to grab our shit and go to my boyfriend’s house for a little bit and he went in before me. When I came inside, I guess he saw our dad before I did and tried to tell me to wait.” 

“Who is Cotton?” she asks, writing as she speaks. 

Right. “Uh- Ellison, right here,” Mickey clarifies, gesturing to his blonde twin. “Yeah, he tried to stop me but Terry still shot me before I could see him.” 

“How do you know it was him?” 

“Pretty sure I can recognize my own father’s voice,” Mickey snaps. Ian shoots him a look, the one that tells him to calm down. Mickey waits until she’s done writing to speak again. “I heard him say something to Cotton but I blacked out. Next thing I know, I’m here.” 

The woman nods, clearing her throat. “And you’re certain it was your father that shot you?” 

“Since he hates my guts for being a faggot and has threatened to kill me multiple times, yes, I’m pretty sure,” Mickey growls, rubbing his temple. She presses her lips together and nods, standing up. 

“I’d like to speak to Ellison outside to get his statement,” she says. “Ellison, if you could follow me.” She goes to move when she notices Cotton doesn’t move or even look at her. “Mr. Ellison, please.” 

Mickey reaches over and touches his arm gently, getting his attention. “Cotton, can you go talk to this nice lady about what happened when I got shot.” 

Cotton blinks and nods, standing up and handing Fiona her phone back, looking at the woman nervously. She smiles and gestures for him to follow, slipping out of the room. Fiona murmurs something to Mandy, setting a hand on Cotton’s back and following him out. 

Ian looks at Mandy, the two exchanging some wordless conversation before Mandy walks out as well, leaving the two men alone in the room. Ian sits down next to Mickey, shooting him a strained smile. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Mickey says weakly, reaching up to cup his face. He traces his thumb under his eye, frowning slightly. “No sleep?” 

“No,” Ian murmurs, setting his hand over Mickey’s. He leans into his hand, closing his eyes. “Too worried and all.” 

Mickey nods, tugging him down gently to press their lips together. Ian hums in content, hand sliding down to cup Mickey’s cheek, lips moving slowly against his. Mickey cups the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. Ian pulls back, breathing out shakily and pressing their foreheads together. “Move in with me.” 

Mickey blinks, looking at him in surprise. “What?” 

Ian rubs his cheek, lowering his voice. “Let’s get our own apartment, our own space. I can keep you safe from Terry. It’ll just be us.” 

Mickey’s lips part, tongue thick in his mouth as he listens to Ian. He swallows, chuckling dryly. “We can’t afford that shit, Ian.” 

“We can figure something out,” Ian presses, pecking his lips softly. “We always do, don’t we?” 

Mickey bites his lip, running his fingers through Ian’s hair. “What about my siblings? I can’t just leave them.” 

Ian pecks his lips again before leaning back, sighing. “We’ll figure it out. We won’t just leave them, I promise.” Mickey breathes out slowly and nods, shooting him a weak smile. Ian smiles back. “It’ll be okay.” 

He sure hopes so.

**Author's Note:**

> Open ending means there's gonna be another story coming soon which will also be a direct sequel from this story. Comment below what you think/want to happen, as I only have half the story planned right now :D


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